Help
by susies-fandom-wonders
Summary: Anonymous requested Des taking care of one Hershel Layton.


Anon said: When you'll be okay could you write something about Descole/Desmond taking care of Layton please? I'll hope you can rest and you'll be okay soon 3

Awh you're sooooo sweet, love you anon!

I'm feeling a lot better so I'll be getting on this then!

Stomach is still feelin sensitive but overall? Way better :)

I have several ideas but???? I'll go with what my gut instinct tells me to.

Help

Layton yawned for what seemed like the thousandth time that day as he hunched over student papers and tests. His room was a mess of scattered newspapers and clothing from several days before. A small pile of dishes sat next to him, teacups stacked on top of each other.

He needed to grade these before the week ended, and he was planning on going on another archaeological expedition soon. He couldn't put this off.

He curled his fingers around a cup of Earl Grey, the drink long since cooled, before taking a small sip and setting the cup back on the desk. His eyes were drooping, and no matter how hard he tried to keep them open, they continued to slip closed. He shook his head, blinking multiple times in an attempt to wake himself up. He yawned again, and felt his head slipping downwards, his hat going crooked.

The more he fought against it, the more he realized he needed sleep, and he needed it now. He relaxed, letting his body uncurl itself before dozing off.

Descole watched as Layton struggled with exhaustion from the window, his mouth tugged into a small frown. He carefully opened it after seeing the younger man finally give in to his needs and drift off, his body slowly moving downwards until his head rested on his desk, atop all the paperwork he needed to get done. His hat remained lopsided on the professor's head, the rim probably getting bent under the man's weight.

Descole sighed softly, climbing in over the desk and landing softly on the ground. He looked back at Layton, and gave a soft click of disapproval.

"The -- Hershel…." His voice had risen from the baritone he usually flourished while wearing the mask, instead carrying with it a tone of concern. He untied his cape, draping it over the unconscious man. "You simply must stop overworking yourself like this. At this rate, you're going to pass out during your teaching hours." He looked at the desk, at the papers that had yet to be graded. Then he looked back at the office, grimacing at how absolutely filthy the room really was. He looked back at the sleeping professor, and his jaw hardened with resolve.

He was going to kick himself later, but he decided he was going to help the sleeping man. If Layton were awake, he would adamantly deny helping him at all. As it were, though, he got to work, first wandering around the room and picking up all the laundry that had ended up on the floor. He tossed them by the door, and began picking up books and stray papers that had ended up on the ground one way or another.

"How are you so filthy?" Descole asked the sleeping man as he brought the books over to the desk, setting them on the ground for the moment. "I swear, you and --" he cut himself off with a grimace, his teeth clenched. No way in hell was he going to compare Layton to that man they had once called father. He elected instead to lift the sleeping man from the chair, hoisting him over to the worn green couch in the middle of the office. It wasn't as bad as sleeping in the chair, at any rate.

As Descole lowered the professor onto the piece of furniture, Layton began mumbling as he stirred. The masked man froze, his heart leaping into his chest. Then the younger man stilled, and went silent once more. Descole let out a breath he didn't know he was holding until he exhaled shakily.

That was close. Too close. He stepped back, trying to calm his pounding heart. After a moment, he turned back to the desk. He could organize properly now. He pushed the teacups to the side, deciding he'd deal with that later. Picking up the papers, he glanced back at the couch before sitting in the chair. He picked up the discarded pen, and started looking over the students' work.

Layton began to stir, and as he opened his eyes, he definitely remembered not falling asleep on his couch.

And he certainly didn't clean his office. He looked around, confusion creasing his features, before his eyes fell on his desk. He shot up; he needed to finish grading! He strode over to the desk, and his confusion only grew when he saw that all his papers seemed to be graded.

His eyes fell on a note. Picking it up, he scanned over the messy handwriting.

'Don't overwork yourself. And please, keep your office tidy! - D'

Layton blinked once, then twice at the note, before pocketing it. He noticed his hat next, sitting on the chair. He picked it up, placing it on his head. He looked around a minute longer before picking up the stack of papers and exiting the room.

From outside the window, Desmond couldn't help but smile.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was growing attached to the professor.

He would have to keep an eye on that, but for the moment, he allowed himself to watch with some sort of satisfaction at his handiwork.

He'd make himself known to his younger brother soon.


End file.
